


and the blood's run stale

by taywen



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Gen, High Chaos (Dishonored), High Chaos Corvo Attano, Misunderstandings, Podfic Available, Post-Canon, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taywen/pseuds/taywen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first time she notices, Callista does not realize what she is looking at. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Even with Emily on the throne, Dunwall is still violent, still caught in the throes of the plague. She sees bruises every day. Emily comes back covered in dust with a skinned knee after a game of hide and seek with Corvo; Geoff always has some injury or other, even though his rank should preclude any sort of risk; everyone walks around with dark circles under their eyes.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>(It's the reddened eyes that you have to watch out for.)</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the blood's run stale

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this](http://dishonored-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/446.html?thread=390846#cmt390846) prompt on the kink meme months ago, posting it now because I decided I have no shame; minor edits have been made to this fic since then
> 
> title from the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons
> 
> I warned for non-con because Callista accidentally stumbles upon what she assumes to be a scene of Corvo raping Geoff, but... it's actually consensual. There's no indication of that in the scene though, so. It's towards the end of the third section, if you want to skip it.

01.  
  
The first time she notices, Callista does not realize what she is looking at.

Even with Emily on the throne, Dunwall is still violent, still caught in the throes of the plague. She sees bruises every day. Emily comes back covered in dust with a skinned knee after a game of hide and seek with Corvo; Geoff always has some injury or other, even though his rank should preclude any sort of risk; everyone walks around with dark circles under their eyes.  
  
(It's the reddened eyes that you have to watch out for.)  
  
They take breakfast together, the last of the Curnows. They sit at the small dining table in Callista's suite (Emily hadn't taken no for an answer, for all Callista's protests that she had no _need_ for such lavish quarters in the Tower) unless Geoff gets called away for some Watch matter or other.  
  
It is usually a quiet affair. Callista spends most of her time tutoring Emily, and while it is at times frustrating, she has no wish to complain about the Empress to her uncle. Geoff's time is, of course, consumed by his duties with the Watch; they don't talk about that either.  
  
(It _is_ getting better but slowly, so slowly. Sometimes, Callista thinks that the plague is abating only because Corvo left so few alive.  
  
She never mentions that either. He saved her uncle and she cannot ask for more.)  
  
"It's shaping up to be a nice day," Geoff says idly, spreading apricot jam over his toast. There isn't a cloud in the sky, and the smoky haze that hangs perpetually over Dunwall is thinner than usual today. Emily will likely spend a good portion of her lessons begging to be let outside; perhaps if Callista agrees to hold lessons on the lawn...  
  
She hums in agreement, finishes stirring the last of the honey into her tea. "Pass the jam?" she asks when he's done with it.  
  
"Of course, here." He holds it out to her.  
  
She takes it from him with a smile of thanks. It quickly fades and Callista doesn't stifle her gasp in time. "Your wrist-"  
  
Geoff freezes for a second, his gaze darting from Callista to the strange injury on his wrist. The skin is a livid red, raw, almost like a burn. But from what-?  
  
He pulls his hand back, resumes eating; but his motions are stiff, now. Perhaps an acquaintance would not notice the difference, but Callista _does_. A flush climbs his neck - embarrassment or anger - and he doesn't quite meet her eyes.  
  
"It's from, ah, a training accident," Geoff says. He sounds guilty. "Rookie mistake, really..."  
  
He's lying, and not because he doesn't want her to worry either.  
  
Callista frowns into her tea, takes a sip to gather her thoughts. He's embarrassed about it, whatever the cause. If it was important, he would tell her. They keep their own secrets, but never something important.  
  
"I hope it wasn't in front of all your men," she says, setting her cup back down.  
  
Geoff coughs, takes a swig of his coffee when the fit subsides. "No, no," he mutters, grimacing.  
  
"Good," Callista says, but it comes out questioningly.  
  
Geoff doesn't answer.

* * *

02.  
  
The mysterious injury plagues Callista's thoughts at odd moments, like a persistent ache that never quite goes away. She remembers in the quiet minutes when Emily applies herself to a set of problems or when she takes a walk in the evening.  
  
Usually she finds some measure of peace when she strolls through the gardens in the evening. If she works at it, she can even pretend the guards posted everywhere are simply out for a walk the same as she is. But tonight, her thoughts are drawn to the same issue that has been bothering her since breakfast three days ago.  
  
If it was serious, Geoff would have told her what was wrong. But his reaction sticks in her mind. Had he told her he didn't want to discuss it, she would have respected his wishes; they are both private people, after all. The clumsy evasion is all wrong; why would he lie to her?  
  
"Evening, Miss Curnow," the officer on duty says, nodding as they pass on the path.  
  
"Evening," she echoes automatically.  
  
The worry continues to gnaw at her until she's forced to concede that wandering the grounds will do nothing to relax her. Rather than retiring to her room, however, she finds herself walking towards the administrative wing of the Tower. The door to her uncle's office is closed, but the lights are on; knowing him, he'll still be awake poring over requisition orders or duty rosters even though he should be resting.  
  
She pauses at the end of the hall, then makes up her mind. She will ask him about it and if he rebuffs her again, she'll drop it.  
  
Callista enters without knocking, but her words of greeting don't make it past her lips.  
  
Corvo has Geoff pressed against the wall behind his desk, left hand curled around Geoff's wrist, fingers overlaying the injury Callista had seen before. His other hand is fisted in Geoff's hair, pulling her uncle's head back to-  
  
Corvo notices her immediately. He steps back at once, releasing Geoff. His gaze is piercing, has her transfixed as he smooths his hands (one marked, one not; even now he does not wear gloves but no one remains to call him on it) over his coat. It is not the same ragged, bloodstained thing that he wore on his missions for the Loyalists, but a replacement of the exact same design. Sometimes it is bloody or torn or both, but never for very long.  
  
Callista has become used to overlooking the stains. At least he no longer wears the mask. It had disappeared when what remained of the Loyalists returned to the Tower and she has not seen it since.  
  
(Sometimes, the expressions Corvo wears are more frightening than the death mask. Like now: Corvo's face is eerily blank, his eyes coldly calculating as he looks at her; _through_ her.)  
  
Geoff clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to fix it. "Is something wrong, Callista?" he asks, stepping over to his chair and taking a seat.  
  
"I just- wanted to talk," she says, a beat too slowly. "I'm sorry for interrupting."  
  
"You didn't interrupt anything," Corvo says sharply.  
  
Callista takes a step back.  
  
"Corvo," Geoff mutters, and Corvo finally, _finally_ looks away from her. Some unspoken communication must pass between them; Corvo's lip curls and he jerks his head angrily.  
  
"We'll continue this later," Corvo says, and stalks out of the room before either of them can reply. Callista tenses as he passes her, then the door's closing with a soft, final sort of click behind him.  
  
Geoff offers her a weak smile. "What did you want to talk about?" he asks, gesturing for her to sit.  
  
Callista's thoughts return to the predatory curve of Corvo's body over Geoff's, the submissive arch of Geoff's neck, the _intent_ expression that had quickly shuttered when he noticed Callista's presence. Geoff's cheeks are still faintly flushed, his eyes dark.  
  
"I-" She sits down, curls her hands together in her lap to still their shaking. She glances at Geoff's desk, where he's braced his forearms and is absently dragging his fingers over the reddened band around his wrist. His hand stills immediately and he sits back, tugging his sleeve down.  
  
"I've forgotten," Callista lies. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. It's late, and I'm tired. I should turn in. You should too, if you get the chance. You always work so hard."  
  
Geoff's smile is strained. "You worry too much, Callista," he says. "I just have some things to finish up, and then I'll go to bed."  
  
She nods and stands, her hands clasped tightly before her. She's nearly at the door when Geoff says, "Callista-"  
  
He's shuffling some documents on his desk when she turns back.  
  
"Uncle?"  
  
"... Have a good night," he says.  
  
"You as well," she murmurs, and lets herself out. Corvo is nowhere in evidence, but she can't shake the feeling that she's being watched as she makes her way to her room.

* * *

03.  
  
Corvo disappears for a week; all Emily will say on the topic is that it is a matter of _imperial security_. Callista doesn't press for details.  
  
Breakfast has become a stilted affair, at least in Callista's mind. Life was hardly relaxing before, but if she isn't mistaken, Geoff looks more stressed as well.  
  
Only in his absence does Callista realize how much she usually sees of Corvo. He is found lingering outside the study-cum-classroom most days, waiting for lessons to end. With a guilty sort of dread, she realizes that she often sees him with Geoff as well. It makes sense - Geoff is no longer a mere Captain, so increased contact with the Lord Protector is not unnatural - but now she finds herself analyzing those brief glimpses of the two men together.  
  
Was the distance between Corvo and Geoff normal? It must have been; but her mind keep circling back to the strange tableau she had unwittingly stumbled upon. Callista is almost completely certain that the mysterious injury was inflicted by Corvo, but she has no proof beyond what little she has seen.  
  
She's just settling into bed with a book about whalers (the legitimate kind) when someone knocks briskly on the door. Without waiting for a reply, Emily strides in. She seldom wears white anymore; greys and blacks make up the majority of her wardrobe, with the occasional crimson or blue garment thrown in for variety. She's wearing a light blue nightgown tonight, her bare feet almost luminous against the dark carpet.  
  
"Emily," Callista says, setting the book aside. "Is something wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Emily had never confided in her even in those days in the tower at the Hound Pits, when she tossed and turned and cried out in her sleep, keeping Callista up half the night. But Callista cannot think of another reason to explain the visit.  
  
"No," Emily says calmly, padding over to the bed. "And I expect I won't; Corvo's back, finally."  
  
"That is good news," Callista murmurs, folding her hands together in her lap.  
  
Emily nods. "I debriefed him and he told me a bedtime story- _not_ that I still need one," she adds, "but it's nice to hear it all the same. Anyway, I forgot to give him the drawing I made, but he asked me not to disturb him tonight, so you'll have to deliver it for me instead."  
  
Callista accepts the rolled sheet automatically. It is tied with a black ribbon, the loops of the bow childishly large.  
  
"Surely it can wait," she says.  
  
"I want him to have it tonight," Emily says. "And the servants are all scared of him, but you're not."  
  
_I just hide it better_ , Callista doesn't say. She licks her lips. "It wouldn't be the same, coming from me."  
  
"He'll know I drew it," Emily says, impatience colouring her words. She narrows her eyes, adopting an expression that Callista knows means she has lost the argument.  
  
"I'll have to get dressed," Callista says; adds, pointedly, "I'm in my nightclothes. It isn't proper to wander about dressed so."  
  
Emily nods, though Callista doubts she has any intention of actually heeding her advice. She is, at least, usually gracious in victory. "I'm going to bed, then. Don't stay up too late."  
  
"Sleep well," Callista says. She remains seated for several long minutes after Emily lets herself out, then gets up and puts the clothes she'd worn earlier back on. She can slide the drawing under Corvo's door, perhaps.  
  
Corvo's suite is closer to Emily's than it is to Callista's, but the walk is only a matter of minutes either way. She encounters a few trusted guards and no servants, but it is rather late.  
  
The door to Corvo's suite is ajar. Callista hesitates, torn. She'll have to deliver the drawing tonight, as Emily will surely ask Corvo about it tomorrow morning, but she has no wish to intrude upon Corvo's space.  
  
Callista tenses when she hears a pained cry from within the suite. She's into the front room - a sitting area, she dimly notices - before she quite realizes it: that was her uncle's voice.  
  
There are two doors leading out of the sitting area. The open one leads to a water closet, which means the other must be to Corvo's bedroom.  
  
Geoff cries out again. Callista bites her lip and creeps closer, kneels down to peer through the keyhole.  
  
If what she had seen briefly in Geoff's office had been provocative, this is damning: Geoff, wrists tied to Corvo's bedposts; Corvo curled over him, his fingers digging bruises into Geoff's hips. He's-  
  
He's _raping_ Geoff.  
  
"- gag you next time?" Corvo's asking, his voice low and rough; strained. "Unless you _want_ everyone to know-"  
  
Geoff utters a bitten-off moan of protest, his back arching as Corvo thrusts into him. "Corvo, please-" His voice breaks.  
  
"I won't stop," Corvo says.  
  
Callista steps back from the door, eyes wide. She pressed a hand to her mouth at some point, though she has no recollection of doing so.  
  
She should- she needs to stop this, she must-  
  
"Ah- Corvo, stop-"  
  
"No," Corvo snarls. The bed creaks in protest, but it is not loud enough to drown out the obscene sound of flesh against flesh. "You'll _take_ what I give you."  
  
Geoff's voice cracks on a shout; Callista flees.

* * *

04.  
  
Geoff shows up to breakfast nearly fifteen minutes late.  
  
Callista had poured herself tea, something to steady her nerves - she hadn't been able to sleep at all - then promptly forgotten it as her thoughts circled back to the previous night.  
  
Something like relief and guilt both surges within her when Geoff arrives, bursting in without warning.  
  
"Sor-" Geoff stops, clears his throat. His voice is rough. Callista can barely look him in the eye. "Sorry I'm late. Slept in," he says. His gait is stiff, though it is almost imperceptible, as he takes his customary seat across from her. Had Callista not been looking for it, she doubts she would have noticed.  
  
How long has she _not noticed_?  
  
"It's all right," she says, trying not to make her study too obvious. Is that a mark visible just beneath his collar? Geoff is careful to keep his wrists beneath his sleeves. "Everyone's been busy lately."  
  
Geoff nods, gives her a tired, grateful smile. "Yes, but it _is_ getting better."  
  
Is it? Callista wonders.  
  
"Slowly but surely," she agrees, and takes a sip of her tea. It is cold and she forgot to add sugar. "Uncle..."  
  
Geoff looks up. There are dark bags under his eyes, but he looks more relaxed than she can remember. The expression on his face is one of contentment.  
  
Whatever he sees in her face makes him wary; the line of his mouth hardens and his face becomes concerned.  
  
"Is something the matter, Callista?"  
  
She can't say it.  
  
"You know I would do anything to protect you," she says instead. "I know I'm no soldier but-"  
  
"-of course I know that," Geoff says; he looks simultaneously relieved and more worried. "The city is healing, Callista. Nothing is going to happen to me." It's a lie, but one that everyone utters these days: they have to believe that the worst is over, that those who have made it this far will make it out of this dark time of plague and unrest.  
  
Callista toys with the handle of her teacup. "If there's anything you want to- discuss. You can tell me."  
  
"Well, there's a bit of complaining in the ranks about recent promotions," Geoff says. "Slackers with seniority expecting to be promoted just because they've made it this far. The Watch doesn't have room for that kind of favouritism any longer." He shrugs, takes a bite of toast. "Things have been busy, but it's nothing dangerous."  
  
"I see," Callista murmurs. "The offer stands," she adds.  
  
Geoff nods. "The same goes for you. You've looked so worried lately, Callista."  
  
"I don't know if I'm preparing the Empress enough. If what I'm teaching her will be adequate," Callista confesses, though that worry has been far from the forefront of her mind these past days.  
  
"We do the best we can," Geoff says.  
  
Callista makes a quiet, agreeable noise, and applies herself to the apricot tart on her plate.  
  
"If someone was hurting you," she tries again a few minutes later, after forcing down several bites of pastry. It had tasted like nothing. "If someone was hurting you- Geoff, I know getting hurt in the line of duty is expected, but if there was something beyond your career..."  
  
"Callista, speak plainly," Geoff says. He looks unhappy now, and tense; this is not what Callista wanted at all.  
  
She licks her lips and looks down at her half-empty cup. "I know Dunwall isn't the most... accepting city. Not like Tyvia-"  
  
"What are you suggesting?" Geoff asks tightly. His face is pale when she dares to look at him.  
  
"We can leave," Callista says. "If someone's t-taking advantage of you, you don't have to endure it just to-"  
  
"No one is- is _taking advantage_ ," Geoff says. "Just because I'm not seeing a woman, or-"  
  
Callista scarcely hears his other words. How can he _say_ that Corvo isn't- Taking advantage is a _generous_ term. "Your wrists-" she starts, her voice cracking.  
  
"-a training accident," Geoff insists, his voice rising with hers.  
  
"Don't lie to me!"  
  
Geoff jerks, sits back as if she had slapped him. Callista looks down again, takes several deep breaths. This isn't about her, she reminds herself.  
  
"Geoff, I just want what's best for you. If the Lord Protector is-"  
  
"Don't," Geoff says. "I- I'm the one who convinced him to start this, Callista. It's my fault."  
  
Callista stares at him blankly. "Wh-what?"  
  
Geoff looks absolutely miserable. "I convinced him to start this," he repeats. "I'm the-" his mouth twists, "-heretic. Corvo was only looking for support and I took advantage-"  
  
"How can you say that!? Why are you trying to protect him?!" Callista demands. "Is he using your- your preference against you?"  
  
Geoff frowns. "How did you know that I'm- that I prefer men?"  
  
Callista wants to scream. "What does that have to do with anything? I've known since I was a child!"  
  
"You've never said anything," Geoff says blankly.  
  
"It was obvious you didn't want to talk about it," Callista says. "As I've said, Dunwall is hardly _accepting_."  
  
"Then what is this about?" Geoff asks, bewildered.  
  
"He's violating you!" Callista cries.  
  
Geoff continues to stare at her blankly.  
  
"The marks on your wrists- I saw you last night-"  
  
Geoff reddens, his expression transforming into one of horror. "Callista!"  
  
"I didn't mean to," she says. "But-"  
  
"Callista, stop," Geoff says. "I asked him to- to tie me up." He clears his throat, licks his lips. "Whatever you witnessed, I assure you that it was- consensual."  
  
"You wanted him to hurt you?"  
  
Geoff rubs a hand over his mouth. She can just see the edge of one raw mark before he drops his hand back to his side. He meets her eyes steadily. "Yes, I did."  
  
Callista sits back. "I- I see," she manages to say. Then adds, "I'm sorry. I misunderstood."  
  
"It's not hard to see why," Geoff mutters gruffly. He clears his throat again, and takes a large bite of his toast. Callista does the same with her tart. The silence is broken only by the sound of chewing. Callista resolutely avoids looking at her uncle, and she imagines he does the same.  
  
"Let's, ah, never mention this again," Geoff says.  
  
"... Agreed."

* * *

05.  
  
"You didn't give Corvo my drawing," Emily says later that day.  
  
"I'm sorry," Callista lies, so overwhelmed by it all that she barely registers the dull shock of realization: she forgot to give Corvo Emily's drawing. "I fell asleep after you left..."  
  
Emily frowns. "Well, I drew him another one. Give me the first one back so I can give it to Corvo later."  
  
"I'll fetch it after our lesson," Callista says.  
  
"Fine," Emily sighs. "I hope we're doing something interesting, at least..."  
  
When Callista excuses herself to go retrieve the drawing some time later, Emily barely looks up from her problem set.  
  
The drawing is not in her suite; she scours every inch of her bedroom, the sitting area, even the water closet. Nothing. With a dull sort of dread, she realizes that she doesn't remember having it when she reached her room after inadvertently spying upon her uncle and Corvo.  
  
What is she going to tell Emily?  
  
"Looking for this?"  
  
She jumps, gives a stifled shriek; Corvo is leaning in the doorway, holding Emily's drawing in his left hand. His eyes are cold and blank, fixed upon her as he stalks forward. The door clicks shut behind him.  
  
"You told Emily you fell asleep," Corvo continues. Of course he was watching. The frantic pounding of her heart nearly drowns out his next words: "I found this outside my room last night, though."  
  
"I-"  
  
Corvo's eyes narrow and her words die in her throat. "And I heard what you said to Geoff."  
  
Her uncle's name sounds strange on Corvo's tongue. She can't recall ever hearing it before. Corvo has always addressed Geoff as his rank or Curnow in her presence. She focuses on this because if she considers the alternative-  
  
She can't.  
  
"I suppose it was a logical conclusion to reach," Corvo adds, "given my... reputation." He shrugs, his expression softening slightly into a bored sort of apathy.  
  
"I'm sorry," Callista whispers, clasping her hands tightly to hide their shaking. It does little to help.  
  
Corvo shrugs again. "I don't care about that," he says. "It isn't true, even if you did believe it." He tilts his head, watching her like a boy might watch an insect crawling in the dirt beside his foot. "I hope you'll continue to try and protect those close to you."  
  
"Emily is waiting for my return," Callista manages; whether it is a reminder that the only person keeping Corvo from losing it completely would care about her disappearance or an agreement with his last statement, she really couldn't say.  
  
"Yes," Corvo agrees, his expression sharpening again. He's looking at her like a predator looks at its cornered prey now. "Lie to Emily again and I'll kill you, Geoff's niece or not. Do you understand?" His casual, bored tone - as if they are discussing the weather - belies the words themselves.  
  
"Y-yes," Callista stammers. "I understand, Lord Protector."  
  
Corvo studies her for several long moments, then steps back. Callista takes a shaky, ragged breath, then another, as he stalks back to the door.  
  
"Ah, Callista-" He pauses, hand on the knob. She looks at him mutely. "Call me Corvo," he says. "There's no need to be so formal."  
  
"Of course. Corvo," she says.  
  
He smiles at her blankly (somehow more terrifying than seeing that mask splattered with blood and leering at her when he broke in the door of the tower at the pub) and lets himself out, leaving the door open behind him. His footsteps fade as he walks away.  
  
Callista relaxes slightly, her heartbeat beginning to slow to healthier levels. Her hands ache from how tightly she was clenching them, but she can't get them to relax. Her knuckles are sharp and white when she looks down at them.  
  
"Don't keep Emily waiting," Corvo adds, peering around the doorway, startling her all over again.  
  
"I won't," Callista says, and somehow forces herself to move, to step towards him.  
  
When she reaches him, Corvo disappears, leaving behind flickers of darkness that soon fade. The flare of the mark on his hand sticks in her mind.  
  
Callista closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and goes to see Emily.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] and the blood's run stale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282678) by [Kess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kess/pseuds/Kess)




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